


The Weather Outside Is Frightful

by Khaleesi_of_Lannisport



Series: Pennywise x Fem!Reader [5]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Safe For Work, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 03:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaleesi_of_Lannisport/pseuds/Khaleesi_of_Lannisport
Summary: December 1989. Pennywise is gone but has left a gift for his favorite teacher.





	The Weather Outside Is Frightful

The Weather Outside Is Frightful 

 

 _December 25th 1989._

_7:00am_

 

The alarm sounds off Christmas morning with the local radio blaring jingles welcoming the holiday. Children are unwrapping their gifts left by Santas in the guise of disgruntled parents. Your anti-nausea prescription sits on your nightstand next to your bed. You feel your eyes still puffy from the day before, full of tears and panic attacks after hearing you might be pregnant from the creeper pharmacist. 

Nothing stays in your stomach as you attempt to eat something that morning. You stand before the vanity mirror in your bathroom. New wrinkles start to form around your tired eyes; their youthful glow having faded. You trace your fingers down your unblemished neck. The bruises left by Pennywise have long healed. The stitches from his claw marks and bites were removed before Thanksgiving. Your last night together was Halloween. A weight clutches your chest as you feel tears begin to well. You miss him terribly. 

‘He promised it wouldn’t be until December, or even January,’ you thought bitterly sitting in the hospital while the nurse removed each stitch. Each cut of the thread hurt more knowing what it left behind. Loneliness settles into your heart...but there was something to look forward to. 

Your hands lay on your stomach, trying to gather how far along you are. It couldn’t be more than six weeks. You try to envision the life within you growing. Would the child be as frightful as its father? Would it come out as a clown? You chuckle a bit at the horror the doctor would be in the delivery room. A fangled tooth baby in clown makeup wailing as they cut the cord and hand it to you. This gives you something to look forward to at least. 

Tomorrow was Tuesday so making an appointment to see the OBGYN would be possible. Another wave of nausea overcomes you as you vomit into the sink. What joy pregnancy will be! 

You turn on the faucet and wash down the contents. With barely enough energy you make it downstairs to start tea to help with the morning sickness. You eye your Christmas tree brightening the living room, reflecting the unopened gifts from extended family and colleagues. You could have opened them whenever but it felt like cheating, so you wanted to wait until the 25th. The tea kettle whistles and you pour the warm liquid into your cup with a slice of lemon. 

You settle on the floor next to the tree and begin to organize the gifts with one hand and the other holding the tea. The gifts are small in size and you shake some to guess the contents. You think to organize them alphabetically to keep it fair. There were only twelve gifts you counted. You finish your tea and place the cup down to freeing both your hands to the task. You count and organize them again and see one placed in the back of the tree near the light socket. The wrapping paper is bright red and uneven, as if done by someone very young or in a rush. Its very small and fits in your hands. No name on the tag. A small shake and you can hear a faint rattling noise. You decide to open this one first because there’s no name to place in the queue. You rip off the wrapping paper and find a small box. Opening it gently you see a broken and rotten baby rattle. A small piece of paper cradled the content and you unfold it, reading ‘Congrats, it’s a baby!’ written in red crayon. 

He knew. Pennywise knew you were pregnant. You clutch the rattle to your chest. It was his parting gift. 

A jingle caught your ear. You turn to see a tall, shadowy figure in the hallway leading to the kitchen. 

“Pennywise?” you whisper aloud; you didn’t want to be wrong, it felt foolish to dream of a murderous clown for Christmas. You quickly stand up and become lightheaded. You wobble briefly before catching your stance. 

Another jingle rings out from the kitchen area and you make your way there, the rattle still tightly in your hands. You enter the kitchen and find a fruit cake waiting for you on the countertop. A card was left next to it, again, written poorly with a red crayon. 

‘To my favorite, fruity, delicious teacher!’ This makes you smile again, and tears well-up in your eyes. How foolish you are, crying over a damn fruit cake! 

Normally, you’d regift the fruit cake but somehow this one felt more special. A thought enters your mind of how Pennywise left it here. Where was he now? The pain of loneliness again rises within you. Perhaps food will ease this. You cut yourself a piece and take small bites of it. The sweetness overwhelms you and soon you feel woozy. You catch your hands on the counter to balance yourself. Was it the morning sickness? Leaving the plate of cake behind you venture back upstairs to your bedroom. 

“Ohohoho!” rang through the hallway, leading into bedroom. 

A feeling of rage stirred within your heart. You want to forget him, you want to leave him behind. How could allow yourself to become pregnant and in love with a child-eating monster? Disgusting. What kind of mother would you be? 

The bedroom door opened on its own. ‘He’s here,’ you think to yourself. Your heart skips a beat. The thought of seeing him again fills you with conflict. You desire him and yet hate him. 

 

END?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to me! I meant to post this yesterday, but, of course, family obligations.  
> Anyways, enjoy the short story as a hold off until Sept. 2019.


End file.
